


Try Again

by SparklingDragonTears



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gratuitous use of italics, Hurt Chris, Implied Soul Mates, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Chris/Peter, Past Relationship(s), Rekindling, Soul Bond, implied Derek/Stiles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: They weren’t love-struck, star-crossed teenagers anymore. They were war-torn, brutalized and left alone, each of the other’s doing. But if Chris could try, Peter sure as hell wasn’t about to let him go again.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Try Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yesterday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterday/gifts).
  * Inspired by [maybe together we can get somewhere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149432) by [yesterday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterday/pseuds/yesterday). 



> D/C: Don't own TW. 
> 
> I've been inspired. I gift this work to user yesterday. I have recently spent an entire day reading most of their fics and rekindled my love for Chris/Peter. This work was inspired by yesterday's story, 'maybe together we can get somewhere'. I read it once long ago, and I'm glad to have re-read it by coincidence. If you haven't, I suggest you go read it. It's lovely and angsty and delightful. 
> 
> I feel like this could have more chapters, but we all know how bad I am at multi-chapter fics. I'll leave it open for now.
> 
> Also, I'm kicking into gear early for NaNoWriMo this year! If you want to be my buddy, let me know. :)
> 
> Enjoy.

Peter had been watching him all night. Something was different. Christopher had been casual, no, he’d been trying to _seem_ casual. Why? Although he could never hide his fondness for the teenagers, he'd never before tried to keep his irritation hidden, his annoyance for their snap-decision-non-consequence-considering plans. He typically spent every pack get-together leaning with folded arms against a wall or table, usually in Peter’s general proximity if the Sheriff wasn’t there to banter with. Peter liked to think it was because Chris liked to be closer to him, rather than him being the only other one close in age to the hunter. Peter gave credit where credit was due though, at least Christopher had been present, even if he tended to leave after business and skip out on actual bonding time. 

And they called Peter the broody one. 

Which brought them to tonight. Chris had actually stayed for the awful 80’s cult comedy Stiles had insisted they watch (for the fourth time) because Malia had never seen it. Peter knew for a fact that Chris thought this movie was overrated, the film snob that he was. He had all but tried to force it on him when the movie was popular in the 90’s, to no avail. And yet, here he was, sitting sunken into the chair nearest Peter’s end of the couch, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth at the last ridiculous lines of the movie.

Peter wasn’t sure he’d actually watched the movie, so much as watched the man pointedly stare at the screen all night, and only pick at his cuticles six times (probably the only tell Gerard hadn’t been able to break him of). Peter could admit, whatever the hell Chris was feeling under the anxious fidget, his scent didn’t give off in the slightest. He might have been impressed if he weren’t so annoyed.

By the time the teenagers (plus Derek who was suspiciously stuck to Stiles’ side) had gone down to the parking garage, Chris had finally made to rise from the obnoxiously plush chair, and his mask had begun to slip. Weariness crinkled in the crows feet at his eyes, and he looked anywhere but at Peter as he rose to go slip his shoes on. 

Peter didn’t think. He snapped out a hand and caught Chris by the wrist, light enough the hunter could pull away with ease, but held just tight enough to feel the jack-rabbit pulse under his skin. Not that he hadn’t been able to hear its constant hummingbird pulse all god-damned night. 

Chris froze, and visibly willed his body to relax against the instinct to lash back. He finally met Peter’s eyes, the pale blue a sad, faraway gaze which barely met the present. Peter glanced down to where Chris flexed his toes in his socks, a strange roll of movement that brought old memories slamming to the forefront of his mind. 

He understood with a painful, piercing clarity. He understood because he’d seen that false relaxation before, lived it a hundred times, until the first morning they’d woken up together and Peter hadn’t killed him in his sleep. Chris had been _comfortable_ with them. He had been forcing himself to _trust_ , starting on that path again until it became a truth he could live. 

Peter struggled to keep his breath from shaking.

“Stay,” 

It was half-request, half-plea and neither man were cruel enough to point it out. 

Chris glanced to the door. Peter knew Chris couldn’t know about the current PDA downstairs with his nephew he was pointedly tuning out, or the fact that he had slept with earplugs more times than he cared to count, because god _damn_ that Stilinski boy couldn’t be quiet to save his life. 

Derek owed him this. 

“Derek won’t say anything.”

Chris bowed his head a bit, but made no move to tug free. Peter counted that as a win. He pulled the hunter into the space between his spread legs and it took his everything not to drag the man into him. He had tried so hard to forget exactly what that ghostly gaze could do to him, exactly how the smell of gunpowder and leather short-circuited his brain. Here, surrounded by it, Peter felt downright saintly for not taking him apart here on the couch. There was no way Chris could deny that magnetic drag between them. It had always been there, even when muffled by Talia for a few years. But once he’d stolen it back, it nearly killed Peter to smother it. 

The way Chris swallowed tightly suggested that maybe, the time for denial had finally begun to pass.

“Stay.” 

He couldn’t even make it a question this time, and caught the skip in Chris’ heartbeat before he could calm himself. 

That made the decision for him.

Peter tugged sharply at Chris’ wrist, causing him to topple forward and catch himself on Peter’s thigh. Chris continued without further prompting to kneel one knee on the couch between Peter’s legs, the other outstretched behind him to offset his balance. Chris’ free hand came up to rest roughly calloused fingertips against the stubble on Peter’s cheek, his thumb sliding over Peter’s lower lip with a timid reverence. 

Gods, he looked just as easy to devour as he had 20 years ago. And the shy coloring on his cheeks made it just as tempting. 

Peter slid his hand up from Chris’ wrist to his bicep and clasped his free hand at the back of the man’s neck. Chris fell into him, giving in like he always had. Peter’s brain went quiet with the small grunt of surprise from the hunter. He pried Chris’ mouth open with his lips, although it hardly took any convincing. He would never admit to the whine drawn from his throat as the hunter’s desperate tongue licked over his own. Peter let his fingertips dig into the soft human skin in a way that would likely leave bruises. He knew from experience that Chris would prod at them tomorrow as he jacked off to the memory. 

When Chris’ knee slid forward, pressing against the already too-tight crotch of his jeans, he pulled back just enough to pant against the man’s swollen lips. He didn’t open his eyes as he rested their foreheads together. 

It definitely wasn’t because he was terrified of the possibility of regret in those baby blues.

Peter whispered against Chris’ breath, definitely a plea this time.

“Stay with me.”

He couldn’t bear the thought of another night alone, not when they were _so close_ , not when he’d almost won him back.

Chris’ head shook lightly under where Peter’s fingers had slid into his short hair. His throat rumbled with rough words.

“ _And tomorrow?_ ”

He ignored the guilt and desperation of his chest tightening at the thought of Chris leaving, at the thought of Chris spending a single other night by himself in his bed, not when he was right in Peter's grasp.

He wondered, not for the first time, if humans felt the bond in the same soul-wrenching way the wolves did. 

The way Chris’ fingers were shaking as they slid up under his shirt, made his heart ache. That there had ever been a time Chris had thought he didn’t want him, didn’t _need_ this other half of himself, was enough to damn Peter to hell for ever allowing it.

“And every fucking tomorrow we live in this god-forsaken world.”

He could scent the wave of despair and feel the wetness on Chris’ cheek. Peter’s heart sank. 

But before he could turn his head away, Chris kissed him so fiercely, it stole his breath and every doubt he was about to drown in. As he had a knack for, Chris quickly rescued Peter by a buoy of light words, the familiar teasing of half a lifetime ago.

“ _If you leave a hickey, I’m skinning you in your sleep._ ”

Peter couldn’t help but grin. Gerard was _gone_ , the danger in this fucking place was at rest, and there wasn’t a single person who could kick Christopher down again. Like hell if Peter would let anyone even try. His teeth sharpened at the thought of finally, _finally_ , marking the man as his own.

“Oh darling,” He drawled out, slick and sweet, shoving any lingering hesitation deep into the closet of his mind for another day. “I’m going to make sure every person we meet knows who you belong to.”

He stood in a sudden movement, grasping Chris under his thighs, forcing the man to wrap around him to keep from falling. Peter didn’t bother looking where he was going as he carried Chris up the spiraling stairs, already licking at the soft skin of his neck, so damn _tempted_ to sink his teeth into _his_ human again.

“And I swear to you, Christopher,” 

He grinned again at the shiver that crawled through the man at his name and kicked open his bedroom door.

“You are _mine._ ”

He barely managed to kick the door closed behind him and deposited Chris at the foot of the bed. Chris did not disentangle from him however, rather, pulled them down together.

Peter crawled over Chris, nudging him further up the bed to his pillows, running his hands over the scarred skin he couldn’t believe was really burning hot under his fingers.

“ _Pete,_ ” Chris gasped his name, like he couldn’t quite believe it either, pulling Peter’s shirt over his head and tossing it away like it had personally offended him. That soft, faraway look crested over Peter, and he knew what Chris was asking. He couldn’t help the shuddering breath it drew from him, that Christopher had spent his whole life trying to accept love and that Peter was the only one who’d ever gotten close (besides his daughter for obvious reasons). That Chris _still_ felt that way might have shattered him, had he not been skin-to-skin with the man, each holding the other desperately together.

The bond spilled the words from his tongue before he could consider them. It didn’t make them any less true.

“Still love you, Christopher.” 

Peter didn’t give him a chance to answer, or to think, or get lost in his head. He pressed the man into the mattress without wasting another breath, tearing their clothing with sharp claws for daring to come between them a second longer. 

They weren’t love-struck, star-crossed teenagers anymore. They were war-torn, brutalized and left alone, each of the other’s doing. But if Chris could try, Peter sure as hell wasn’t about to let him go again. And damnit, he was going to make sure the man never wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always.
> 
> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
